


Happy Fucking Birthday

by GutterBall



Series: These Two Clownshoes [4]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Chuck is an awkward jackass but he means well, Cussing, M/M, Ridiculous Schmoop, fluff and snuggles, various OCs from the original story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 20:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12992256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GutterBall/pseuds/GutterBall
Summary: Chuck suddenly remembers that it's Raleigh's birthday. Worse, it's his first birthday since they've been together, and Chuck feels like an asshole because how the hell could he forget? Christmas preparations for the shatterdome aside, this birthday should've been the first thing on his mind.Luckily, Herc is a strategist, and Chuck gets a lot of help from some familiar faces.





	Happy Fucking Birthday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [estei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estei/gifts).



> Another sequel from the _These Two Clownshoes _universe! For estei, who is a love and wanted more of these guys in this 'verse. I aim to please!__

"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck!"

For one terrible second, Chuck was hurled back in time to waking up to the feel of his own helpless body evacuating itself, but he forcibly shoved the sensory memory aside for an even more horrible feeling to take its place.

"Dad, what day is it?"

Blinking owlishly from having spent the past hour squinting at requisition forms, Herc grunted. "Monday?"

"Oi, fuck, the date. What's the date today?"

Still obviously confused, the old man peered over at his display. "The eleventh?"

"Fuck, that's what I thought." Dragging his hands through his hair, he tried to think of anything besides how badly he had fucked up. "Jesus, Dad, do you know what today is?"

A line appeared between Herc's eyebrows. "Uh... the eleventh? Monday? I give up."

Huffing with absolutely no humor, Chuck covered his face. "It's Raleigh's birthday."

And the wanker hadn't even mentioned it. The whole goddamn shatterdome -- what was left of the personnel, anyway -- had spent the past weeks preparing for the first Christmas after the supposed end of the world, and it had just... slipped his mind.

Jesus. What would Raleigh think? The bloke was easy-going as fuck, but this...?

"Oh."

Oh, what? He glanced up to find Herc looking at him with dismay and... yeah. He'd fucked up. The expression on Herc's face said exactly how much.

"Fuck, Dad, what am I gonna do? What time is it?"

Another quick glance at his display, and Herc's expression fell further. "After two."

Jesus. Requisition forms. Fucking useless, pointless requisition forms. They'd spent the whole goddamn morning and a chunk of the afternoon signing off on turkey carcasses and cranberries and fucking ornaments when he could've been running all over Hong Kong, making Raleigh's birthday special this year of all years.

Chuck Hansen was officially the shittiest boyfriend in the entire fucking world.

"Now, don't spin out, son." Herc's voice hardened to the military efficiency that had been blissfully absent the past several months. "We can sort this, yeah? Just... need to call in some favors, is all. No worries, yeah?"

But Chuck didn't _have_ any favors. None that he knew about, anyway. And Herc shouldn't use up all of his sorting out Chuck's fuck-ups.

"Don't even start, kid." Oh, yes. Focused and accounted for, sir. So focused and accounted for that Herc even pawed a notebook closer and took up a pen. "What were you thinking of doing for him? List it out for me."

"Uh."

He... hadn't exactly thought that far. Dammit, he'd been to every goddamn shop in Hong Kong for enough twinkle lights for the jaeger tree they'd constructed in the jaeger bay. It was a gloriously gaudy monstrosity made up of parts from Crimson Typhoon, Cherno Alpha, and even some of the spares from Gipsy and Striker, wrapped up in every fucking string of lights in the city. Jesus, they had so many strands daisy-chained to so many extension cords that it was a miracle they hadn't blown up the goddamn shatterdome just flicking the switch.

"Chuck."

"I know, yeah? Just... all this Christmas shite got me...." He gestured vaguely at his head, not buying his own bullshit for a second. "I mean... I thought I'd maybe take him to that place we always get our take-out from? Get togged out in real people clothes and just... walk about and be normal for a day?"

Nodding and frowning, Herc bent to jotting notes, numbering each new line. "Reckon we can call and see if they'll reserve a table, yeah? How busy can they be?"

That... actually sounded reasonable. Feeling some of the just-shat-himself panic retreating, he stood up and paced, trying to walk off the rest of it. "A present of some sort. Something he's never had or has been doing without. Meant to talk to Mako and Tendo, but...?"

Fucking Christmas. Raleigh's birthday should've been more important to him than figuring out the crane controls enough so Tendo could fling handfuls of tinsel at the jaeger tree.

But Herc kept jotting notes, numbering this and underlining that. "Uh-huh. What else?"

Pausing to crouch down and pet Max, who had ignored all the drama with his usual flair, he frowned almost as hard as his old man. "A cake. Not a birthday without a cake, yeah?"

Hmming a bit, Herc duly noted the entry. "Might be we could ask the kitchen if they could do one. You said they're all pretty gone on the bloke, yeah?"

He nodded absently because, yes, the kitchen staff thought Raleigh Becket fair dinkum walked on water, and it was mostly because of how he'd taken care of Chuck whilst he was sick before they even got together, and he really was the biggest asshole under the sun, and the whole goddamn kitchen staff would know it.

"Wipe that look off your face, son. We got a workable list here: reservations for dinner out, suss out a suitable gift, ring Chau to see if he has it in stock or can get it today, sort out a cake. See? Nothing we can't handle."

To his surprise, the list did sound reasonable, even when Herc ripped it off the pad and handed it over and Chuck had to squint at all the suggestions and additional plans added in or scratched out.

Surely, if they could manage to save the whole goddamn world, they could plan a nice birthday for one pretty American wanker.

Surely.

\--

Everything was fucked.

The takeout place didn't take reservations, and Monday nights were apparently hellaciously busy for some fucking reason, so they couldn't even guarantee a table would be open at any given time. Chuck was ready to throw his favorite hat until Herc asked if they could be reasonably assured of having a take-out order done at a given time. That, they thought they could do, so it would have to do.

As for the gift idea, Tendo had fucked off early due to his kid being sick, and Mako was closeted in meetings with the science wankers and had been most of the day. No one else knew Raleigh well enough to guess what he might have been doing without or what he might've never had a chance to try.

And Chuck _should._ Jesus, they'd been in each other's pockets for months. How the fuck did he not know something the love of his fucking life needed?

If only the pretty bastard would... just... _complain_ once in a while. But the silly sod never let a word of longing pass his extremely kissable lips, and Chuck continued to draw a complete and total blank.

On a whim, he did ring Chau up, just to see if he could be reasonably assured that the bloke still had a certain amount of magic in his ability to procure things at the drop of a coin. Unfortunately, whilst the big sod did agree to work his wiles as soon as Chuck had some idea of what he wanted, he also took the opportunity to agree that Chuck was, indeed, a shite boyfriend, and Raleigh deserved better.

He was just storming his way to the kitchen in hopes of at least one fucking thing going right in the form of a goddamn birthday cake when light suddenly dawned.

"Call-Me-Larry. Call-Me-Larry!"

Okay, the passing techs didn't have to shoot him wary looks, the rotten sods. Just... Tendo and Mako weren't the only two people in the dome who might have an idea what Raleigh needed. He was having much better luck with his therapist these days, so maybe the bloke might know something.

Changing direction, he ran to the psych hall, checked the posted schedule on the wall to make sure he wasn't interrupting someone else's time, then knocked on the metal door. Fidgeting, he hoped to God the bloke wasn't having a wee or something. This would be the fucking day for it.

Just as his fidgeting turned into actual twitching, the door swung open, and a nebbish little bloke with rabbity eyes and a nervous smile greeted him politely.

"Are you Larry, Raleigh's therapist?"

The smile stayed nervous but seemed to brighten. "I am, Ranger Hansen. What can I do for you today?"

"Oh, it's not for me. I mean, it is, but it's for Raleigh." Shaking his head, he tried again. "Sorry, it's been a rough day. What I'm trying to say is... uh...."

He went blank. Worse, the therapist actually stood back from the door and gestured for him to come in, but dammit, he didn't need a therapy session. He might, if all of this didn't come off and Raleigh got pissed and dumped him, but right now, he just needed an answer.

But the bloke was probably right that "in the hall" wasn't the right place for it, so he grudgingly stepped inside.

"I just... can you tell me something Raleigh's been doing without?"

Those rabbity little eyes widened as the bloke's eyebrows rose. "I'm sorry?"

"It's his birthday, yeah? And I wanted to get him something special, since this is our first... I mean, his first birthday with... with me. But I've been swamped with all this Christmas shite and didn't get my ass sorted, and now, nothing is going right."

Okay, not how he meant to say it. But it was true enough, for all that it was pointless rambling.

"And he never complains about anything, yeah? He always knows just what to get me, even just on the way back from one of his flying lessons, but he never talks about what he wants or needs or misses. I mean, the big things, yeah, like his brother and parents and shite, but nothing I can actually... get him."

Why the fuck was he laying all this out on this poor therapist? This wasn't a goddamn session, and Call-Me-Larry for sure wasn't his hardassed purveyor of mental health.

The two couldn't be further apart in their therapeutic approaches if they compared notes and really tried.

"So I was hoping maybe he'd let something slip in a therapy session? Something he'd get a kick out of?"

His hopes dwindled when Call-Me-Larry pursed his lips a bit and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Ranger Hansen, but anything Raleigh has discussed with me in a session is private. You'll understand?"

Slumping, he looked about for a seat and all but collapsed down onto it. "Oi, I'm not asking you to violate confidentiality here, mate. Just... I want to make him happy. And not be a shite boyfriend who forgets his first goddamn birthday with us together."

Fuck. Now he'd done it. Sighing, he put his face in his hands again.

"Sorry, Larry. Didn't mean to drop all that on you. Just... nothing's gone to plan, and I don't want him to be upset. With me." He huffed, face still hidden. "At all, really. I fucking hate that look on his face, especially when I've put it there."

Silence fell for a moment, then Call-Me-Larry sat down opposite him. He couldn't quite bring himself to uncover his face yet.

"Ranger Hansen, I feel I should--"

"Chuck, please." His mouth twitched, and he finally let his hands fall away, though he could only glance up for a split second. "Just Chuck."

"All right. And you can just call me Larry."

It almost got a chuckle, though he wasn't sure it was on purpose.

"Look, Chuck... I can't violate my patient's confidentiality, but... Raleigh speaks of you often in his sessions."

That earned more than a momentary glance, but he still ended up looking at the floor before the bloke could speak again.

"You two are in a committed relationship, and he's been very candid about how much he speaks to you about our sessions, so I do feel like I can say one thing without violating his trust. All right?"

Clasping his hands together between his knees, he nodded at a spot on the floor about a foot in front of Larry's shoes.

"You don't have to get him anything to make him happy."

He blinked, frowned, and finally managed enough of a look up to actually catch the bloke's eyes. Rabbity, yes, but also serious.

"Raleigh still has years of work to do, but none of that has anything to do with his relationship with you." The nervous smile came back, and Chuck began to wonder if that was the only sort of smile the bloke had. "You, Chuck, are one of the only things in the world he's sure of."

That was... Jesus, he couldn't even... but, perversely, it made him feel worse.

"And I'm fucking that up because I can't think of anything special to get him for his goddamn birthday."

"Chuck." Goddammit, if he had to hear that tone from one more person today-- "You aren't... messing anything up. He's _happy_ with you. He doesn't talk to you about needing anything because... he _doesn't._ You already make him happy."

Okay. Nice, he supposed. But not very fucking helpful, now, was it?

Sighing, he shoved to his feet and tried to be gracious. "Uh... thanks, mate. I mean... that sounds nice and all, but it's still his birthday, and I still have no idea what to get him. I don't want him to think I forgot him, yeah?"

Sighing as well -- and shaking his head a bit -- the little bloke stood, too. "He's also spoken occasionally about your one-track mind."

If the rabbity little sod weren't smiling at him, he'd be tempted to take offense at the statement. Instead, he grunted and accepted that he might be just a wee bit too focused sometimes with something of a nod. Then, feeling more like he'd had a therapy session than having made any forward strides, he headed for the door.

"Chuck?"

Oi, what the fuck now?

But the bloke had been gracious and had tried to help, so he didn't say it out loud. Just turned and looked a question at him.

"He did mention the other day that he used to always have hard candies at hand. He'd keep a handful in his pockets and desk and his locker in the drivesuit room. He used to think it was a nervous habit, but now he sort of misses the habit."

He brightened. That, he might be able to do. He had no idea what kind of hard candies the bloke was talking about, but he'd just take whatever Chau had in stock and hope that covered the whole lot.

"Thanks, mate."

Yeah. The smile still looked nervous, so it must just be his face. "You're welcome, Chuck."

\--

"Seriously?? The one goddamn baker on shift went home with food poisoning twenty minutes ago??"

Par for the fucking course today. Here it was, edging up on four o'clock, and there would apparently be no cake. All because he'd missed the bastard by twenty fucking minutes whilst talking to goddamn Call-Me-Larry and ringing up Chau again to order up every goddamn hard sweet in reach.

But he had no intention of offending the kitchen crew, who'd been so invested in getting him back on his feet and who were so devoted to Raleigh, who'd helped get him there by sheer willpower and snuggles alone.

"We're so sorry, Mr. Hansen."

"No, no. Not your fault, mate." Shaking his head and finding a cynical smile, he made sure to look at each member of the crew. "Not any of your fault. I left it to the last minute, so it's on me. I'll just... sort something else out, yeah?"

Amusingly enough -- and God, did he need some amusement to keep him from slipping into despair the longer this awful fucking day went -- one of the sheilas in the back raised her hand. "Mr. Hansen?"

Her English was heavily accented, and he was tempted to suggest she speak her native tongue. Unfortunately, his Cantonese was nowhere near as good as his Mandarin, and he had no idea which one she spoke, so he kept his mouth shut nodded instead.

"I might be able to help?"

Trying not to get his hopes up, he put his hands up. "Anything. I'm serious. Anything would help."

She blushed a bit and put her hand down. "My cousin... she owns a bakery in the city. She only sells bread, but... perhaps she could bake a cake, just this once?"

Okay, his hopes were definitely up. "Oi, you're serious? Miss, I swear to God that if she'll do one up just this once, I'll pay triple whatever it costs her. And double that for the trouble."

She blushed deeper and ducked her head. "Oh, no, sir. She would not take money for this."

He gently pushed through the crowd until he stood before her, feeling like a towering brute and hoping he didn't look like one. "She will. I insist. If she'll sort this out for me, I'll owe her a bloody fortune, yeah?"

She glanced up, then smiled down at her hands. "I will call and ask. And I will make sure she takes your generous offer."

A hint of relief brought a genuine smile to his face, and he swiped at his forehead. "And my eternal gratitude, yeah?"

Another glance up, and her smile had dimples this time. "I will tell her."

She looked over at the head chef for the shift, who nodded eagerly. Thus assured, she hurried out of the kitchen for the break room, then came right back with her mobile in hand, already pressed to her ear. After a quiet moment, she let loose a stream of Cantonese, just his luck. He did catch the jist of the conversation, and by the time she hung up, he was fairly certain Raleigh would at least have a birthday cake.

"She is happy to help, but she will only accept enough to cover the ingredients."

But he grinned ear to ear, finally feeling like things were looking up. "And you'll make sure to slip her three times that, then three times that again to thank her for doing this, yeah?"

She chuckled, and... Jesus... this might just work out, after all.

\--

"Oi, what do you mean, the ferry isn't running?"

Jesus Christ in a jumped up jaeger, but did literally every single thing have to go wrong today?

"Sorry, Mr. Hansen, but there's a problem with the engine, and we can't get the part in until tomorrow."

It wasn't the ferryman's fault. It wasn't the ferryman's fault. It wasn't the ferryman's fault.

Just... Chau had all his sweets wrapped up and waiting and the cook's cousin was currently putting the finishing touches on the goddamn miracle cake, and the take-out would be waiting for him to pick up in half an hour, and the sun was getting goddamn low in the sky.

And he hadn't seen Raleigh all goddamn day and he felt like an asshole because he should've had all this sorted ahead of time so he could spend the day with the love of his fucking life.

"Oi, son, don't panic yet." Herc, thank God, had followed him out to the queue and clapped a hand down on his shoulder in attempted comfort. "I've got an idea, yeah?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he grudgingly went along when his old man pulled him away, then looked up to find them walking across to the flight deck.

"Dad?"

"Hm?"

"You're a fucking genius."

That got a brilliant smile the likes of which Chuck hadn't seen since he was a sprog. "Yeah? Well, I have my moments."

Sure enough, both choppers were still squat on their helipads, and lo and behold, one of Raleigh's instructors lounged back in one of them, tapping his foot against the glass with whatever music blared in his headphones.

"Oi, Barnes, is that you?"

"Eh?"

Herc tried again when the bloke pulled off the headphones, knocking his aviator shades askew. "Barnes, right?"

"Yessir. What can I do for you today?"

"Any chance you could run my son here to the mainland so he can pick up a few things? The ferry's out."

The bloke looked at Chuck and grinned slowly. "Chuck, right? Raleigh's boyfriend?"

Oh. Right. This was the wanker who'd acted so weird that first time Chuck had seen Raleigh in action landing the chopper. The one Raleigh hadn't seemed to like much.

He narrowed his eyes. "That's me."

No reason to deny it. He wasn't ashamed.

"So why isn't he taking you?"

His eyes narrowed further. "Picking up a few things for his birthday."

To his surprise, the bloke's manner changed entirely from schmarmy to intrigued. "Is it his birthday? Well, hell, kid, hop on in. Raleigh's good people."

Blinking at the turnabout, he shot Herc a look, but his old man only shrugged. Not like he had a lot of other options.

So, he let the chatty bloke buckle on a helmet and took the offered shades, and climbed into the indicated jumpseat to be buckled in.

"All set. Marshal, might wanna back up a bit."

Herc did as indicated, and Chuck waved a bit nervously. Raleigh had indeed flown him back and forth to the mainland a few times, usually to pick up take-out or just to get out of the 'dome for a while, but... he trusted Raleigh. Admittedly, he'd trusted the flight crews to haul their jaegers around, too, but this was different somehow.

But there really wasn't any other option, so he sucked it up.

He had a birthday to pick up.

\--

"Chuck! Jesus, babe, where have you been all day? I've been looking for you everywhere, but everyone was... I dunno... weird. No one would tell me where you were, and Mako was weirdly insistent that I sit in on a meeting with Gottlieb and Geiszler. They went on _forever."_

No matter how much trouble this whole stupid mess had been, Chuck knew he'd do it again. He'd do it again because just having Raleigh throw himself into his arms after a single day spent apart made him feel like a million fucking quid, and it could surely only be better when the bloke actually got 'round to celebrating.

For now, though, he just held the familiar, comfortable body close and breathed deep of sandalwood.

No. Sandalwood and Raleigh.

Best fucking smell in the world.

"No worries, love. Just had a few things to sort, yeah? You hungry?"

"Starving." The pretty bloke pulled away, but only far enough to grin at him. The things he'd do for that fucking grin. "It's late, but I didn't want to eat without you."

"Yeah, sorry about that." Sheepish, he slid a hand down and linked their fingers together. "But I have something to show you."

Because Herc had been busy all day, too, and the best surprise had been on Chuck when he got back from the mainland piled high with packages to be unloaded.

Shrugging, easy as always, Raleigh followed along where Chuck led, past his own door, past Raleigh's door, and to the lift. He ignored the raised eyebrows and set the lift for one floor up.

The couples berths.

Because Herc had been busy all afternoon with a cleaning crew, turning it all out and setting it up with a new mattress and bedding and making sure all the appliances in the kitchenette -- with an actual range and oven! -- worked and the hot water was running.

Their room. Not Raleigh's room or Chuck's room but _theirs._

And when he shoved open the new door and led Raleigh inside, he couldn't help but watch the bloke's expression instead of making sure the candles hadn't blown out on the three-layer cake confection the cook's amazing cousin had concocted.

Wide eyes.

Dropped jaw.

Unfeigned surprise.

Jesus, the bloke was so beautiful it hurt sometimes.

"Happy birthday, love."

"I... what??"

Grinning, he leaned over enough to kiss the pretty sod's cheek. "You do remember your own birthday, yeah?"

Wide, blinking eyes finally met his, so fucking blue that he could drown in them. "You did all this? For me?"

"Of course." He gently squeezed his hand. "I love you, don't I?"

Still wide-eyed, the bloke turned to look at the merrily burning candles on the brightly decorated cake, the spread of take-out all unbagged and waiting in its separate little boxes, the bottle of whiskey Chau had thrown in free of charge, and the four -- count 'em, four -- boxes of sweets that Chau had even been gracious enough to wrap up. Chuck didn't know how much candy was in those boxes, but they were heavy as hell, so the amount was probably prodigious.

Finally, his fingers almost clenched on Chuck's, Raleigh huffed a soft laugh. "I don't know what to say, Chuck. This close to Christmas, no one _ever_ remembered my birthday. Even when I had people to remember."

Appalled, he tugged the bloke's hand enough to get his attention. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Grinning slowly, Raleigh Fucking Becket eyed him with burgeoning amusement as he rolled some of the surprise. "It means that I can count the number of birthday parties I've had on one hand without using all the fingers. We mostly just kinda celebrated my birthday and Christmas all together." The grin fell a bit, but not as far as it might have even a few months ago. "And then, I didn't bother with it at all."

Because there was no one to celebrate with.

Sighing, he leaned forward until Raleigh leaned, too, nudging their foreheads together. "Goddammit, Raleigh."

Huffing again, the gorgeous wanker shook his head. "I wouldn't have been mad if you forgot, you know."

"Ugh." Grumbling, he shifted to wrap his arms around the rotten sod's waist and pull him in close. "I almost fucking did, so I spent the past five hours trying like hell to throw something together because I didn't want you to think you weren't important."

"Oh, Chuck...."

Funny. He didn't mind that tone so much when it came from Raleigh.

"You are such a goddamn romantic sometimes."

"Oi, you make that sound like an insult."

Chuckling, the silly sod pulled away, then leaned in for a kiss that Chuck gladly gave.

"Chuck Hansen." Shaking his head again, the wanker speared him right through with those goddamn endless blue eyes. "Romantic as fuck."

He smirked, reaching down to grab two handfuls of the finest ass he'd ever held. "You better believe it, love."

They kissed a while longer, not in any hurry or trying to shift the mood but just enjoying being close. Unfortunately, the bloke's stomach eventually growled, and Chuck had to admit to being hungry as hell himself, so they headed to the table, hands still clasped.

"So how'd you get Herc to let you use one of the bigger rooms?"

His eyebrows rose. Apparently, the bloke hadn't fully caught on yet.

"He's not."

Wide, blue eyes blinked at him, earning another kiss.

"This is our room now, yeah?" He shrugged. "If you want it, that is."

Because even now, he wouldn't push. But he hadn't slept in his own bunk in months, and the idea of sharing space with the bloke was... intoxicating. He hoped....

"Ours?" Thankfully, Raleigh looked more and more pleased with the idea as he looked around. "We get a couples berth? How did you manage that?"

Relieved -- though not terribly surprised, as they _had_ been pretty much inseparable lately -- he smirked and elbowed the bloke he'd gone and fallen so hard for.

"Well, I _do_ know a guy."

Snickering, Raleigh elbowed him back, gave him another quick kiss, then turned back to the table and started opening fragrant boxes. They both had their favorites memorized, so the meal was a veritable feast of plenty.

The cake was red velvet and melted in their mouths. It paired very nicely with the special tea blend Mako had given Raleigh after the lengthy meeting.

The sweets were... Jesus, he'd have to double Chau's fee for producing so many in so many different varieties. Chuck hadn't known there were that many flavors available in all the world. Raleigh reckoned he'd still be eating sweets on his dying day, which Chuck fervently hoped was about a hundred years from now.

And when the leftovers were put away and the sweets were stowed in one of the kitchenette cabinets and they'd cracked open the whiskey -- thought they only allowed themselves one highball glass apiece, since both their therapists had been adamant that they not hit the bottle, _any_ bottle, too hard -- they made their way into their new living room area and tried out the couch.

It was perfect for snuggling. Soft. Wide enough and long enough for them to pile up under a blanket together. Set just so where they could see the new display wall, where they lazily queued up _The Princess Bride_ and watched it for the umpteenth time.

And when it was late and they were both sleepy from good food and good whiskey and good snuggles, Chuck held Raleigh close and whispered it in his hair one last time.

"Happy birthday, love."

The pretty sod's voice was muzzy with near-sleep, but Chuck understood him just fine.

"Best birthday I ever had."

And that... well, that made the whole fiasco worth it, didn't it?

"I love you, Chuck."

His arms tightened, and he buried his face in Raleigh and sandalwood and felt... at home. At peace.

"Love you, too, Raleigh."

Without another word, they fell asleep together in their new room, on their new couch, curled up in each other and a blanket. And happy.

So damn happy.

**THE END**


End file.
